Page 136 of The Ache That Stayed

As though he was my refuge. Not the very thing I was supposed to survive.

His hand gripped my thigh, lifting it, pushing into me without hesitation in one deep, unforgiving thrust. As though the last hour apart had been punishment enough.

A broken sound left me, as my fingers dug into him.

“I can’t—” he breathed against my mouth, voice wrecked, uneven, as though he was already too far gone.

“I can’t get enough of you.”

My hands slid over his chest, damp skin slick beneath my palms, until my fingers brushed the ink stretched over his heart again.

‘Senza di lei

The translation hit fully this time like a confession.

‘Without her.’

My breath caught as my gaze lifted to his. And then, slowly, his hand covered mine where it rested over the tattoo. Pressing it harder against his chest. Against the violent thud of his heartbeat beneath my palm.

His eyes never left mine, as he kept thrusting into me, unrelenting.

Without you… this means nothing.

He didn’t say it aloud. He didn’t have to. The look in his eyes said it all.

Tears formed at the corner of my eyes as my heart clenched so violently I almost stopped breathing. His hand found the back of my neck as he kissed me fervently.

The water pounded around us, drowning out everything except skin, breath, the sound of losing control, fading everything except the way he felt. Inside me. Around me. Consuming every thought I tried to hold onto.

And for just a moment, I stopped fighting. I let myself exist in it. In him. In something that didn’t demand control or consequence or clarity.

The water was still running. I didn’t know how long it had been. I didn’t know when it ended. Only that he wasn’t inside me anymore. And my body noticed, pulsing, missing the feeling of where he’d been.

We stepped out, the air cold against overheated skin. I grabbed a towel without looking at him, wrapping it tight, like I could hide inside it, solid to hold onto.

My hands were shaking. My breath refused to even out, as though my body hadn’t realised it was over. My body still wanted him. And that terrified me.

I turned away from him, wiping water from my arms, my neck—anywhere but looking at him. As though I could erase it, and force control on myself. But it didn’t work. Because my head had drawn the line, but my body had already crossed it.

If I stopped and looked at him—

If I stood still—I would turn back. I would go to him. Again.

And I couldn’t let that happen.

Because this wasn’t just losing control anymore. This was becoming a habit I couldn’t trust myself to break. An addiction I couldn’t stop.

We dressed in silence stretching between us, thick and fragile—like a thread about to snap. And it did.

“This can’t keep happening.” The words came out before I could alleviate them. Before I could think.

“I think you should leave.”

He didn’t react immediately. Like the words didn’t land all at once—but when they did, they settled deep. His brows pulled together, confusion flickering across his face before it sharpened to irritation.

“You didn’t seem to think that a minute ago.”

His voice wasn’t mocking. It was rough. Unfiltered. Frayed. And it hit exactly where it needed to. My stomach twisted. His gaze didn’t leave mine.